That One Time
by SilverDropsOfPlatinumInTheRain
Summary: It was that one time that showed them how magnificently ignorant and powerful willed a person could be. But the situation wasn't really a good one.


**Wow, I seem to be on a writing spree. This is another Drabble I wrote some time ago. Some jealous France and confused woman. Enjoy!**

**.:|Silver|:.**

**DISCLAIMER: I do not own Hetalia!**

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It was this one time that had shown them both just how wonderfully ignorant some people could really be. After this, they realized the power of selective memory and sheer will. But enough confusion, let me explain what had happened.  
It had been a nice day in Paris, especially nice for Arthur Kirkland, who was just getting ready to go to lunch. His job, as an writer for a magazine, could be quite tiring. Especially if he double checked everything he had written before sending it to be edited.  
Arthur hummed as he grabbed his wallet and made his way outside. He was going to be having a nice lunch at his favorite restaurant. Surely nothing could beat that. However, on his way outside, a familiar co-worker caught him. Belle Marine. She was a sharp tongued brunette who had developed a strange obsession with the English for as long as Arthur could remember. ___Maybe it started after I came here... No, that's just impossible. She wouldn't stalk me._  
Anyways, Belle was there and she have Arthur a flirtatious smile.  
"Hey Arthur. Going for lunch?" she asked brightly. Being in France, as they were, the Englishman was constantly surprised whenever he remembered that people in his company actually spoke English.  
"Yes. I was just going to go have a nice lunch in my favorite restaurant," he said lightly, looking at the brunette carefully. Her grey eyes glittered as she cooed and swung her handbag into her shoulder.  
"Great. Let's go." Arthur gave her a smile and escorted her out.  
The restaurant was one of Arthur's personal favorites. The Kirkland made his way to his familiar table, pulling out a chair for the woman with him before seating himself. Belle gazed at him, her gaze prickling and heated as she stared.  
"Well, why don't you take a look at what you'd like? I recommend the Chicken with lemon," said the blond, averting his gaze to the menu and chewing his lip. ___Why is she here?_ he mused to himself. Belle hummed and leaned forwards, one leg briefly brushing Arthur's, and rest her chin on her palm.  
"Hmm, you seem to know my preferences, Arthur," she said, smiling attractively and glancing up as the waiter came over.  
"Have you decided what you would like?"  
Arthur quickly ordered and looked at the brunette uncomfortably, sipping his water to bide time. She leaned forwards, hoping to see the green-eyed gaze travel below her neckline, but was unsuccessful. The emerald eyes were intently focused on her own eyes. Belle mentally huffed before letting a light smirk flit over her face. She slid a hand to Arthur's thigh. The Englishman froze.  
"Please remove your hand, ___now_," he said firmly. The brunette smirked and leaned even more over the table.  
"I know you don't want me to," she replied seductively. There was a short silence which was interrupted by a growl. Belle looked up in surprise.  
Glaring at them both stood a man dressed in white chef clothes, long blond hair tumbling to his shoulders in delicate waves and blue eyes filled with anger.  
"Just ___what_ do you zink you are doing?" he asked in a stiff voice. A table nearby turned to watch the scene with interest. Luckily for Francis, they were regulars. And they knew what would happen.  
"I was ___trying_ to have a conversation. Now if you would please excuse us. I was saying, Arthur-"  
The brunette was cut off by a hand slamming into the table. She looked up into the angry blue eyes and then at the tag which said in cursive letters "Francis Bonnefoy-Kirkland".  
"Look, Mister Francis, you're interrupting a perfectly good date here. Can you leave?"  
More tables had turned to watch. Some people were snickering. Arthur gaped at the woman for a moment before furrowing his brows.  
"Whatever gave you the idea that this was a date, Miss Marine?" he asked coldly. The brunette didn't seem fazed and merely gave him a saucy wink.  
"Oh, no need to hide it, Artie. We've been dating for a couple of months now. And Francis, you are ruining this one. Now if you would-"  
The Frenchman finally spoke. His eyes were narrowed and he was glaring more furiously.  
"You misunderstand, ___madame_. Arthurr and I-"  
"Are not related. I know," interrupted the woman again with an irritated look. Arthur let out a huff.  
"Miss Marine, I don't know if you noticed or not, but I am married," he growled.  
"And your married life must be boring! I'm way better than your wife anyways."  
There was a short silence in which Arthur and Francis exchanged incredulous looks.  
"His name is Arthur Kirkland-Bonnefoy,___Mademoiselle_ Marine. Do you notice anyzing?" The brunette paused, switching her gazes between the frenchman and the englishman, her mouth gaping before she stood up and glared at Arthur.  
"What? You lied to me! You cheated on me!" she screeched. Many of the regulars were getting interested. This was new. Arthur frowned.  
"What? No I didn't. I never said I wasn't married! And I was never even dating you!"  
"Then what about all those trips to the coffee shops! The shopping!"  
"Have you ever even heard the word 'manners'?"  
Belle collapsed into her seat with shock, noting that, indeed, Arthur had never said he was not married. She had merely assumed that he had taken both his mother and father's last names. Furthermore, he had never gone out of his way to set a coffee date with her. And the only time he went shopping with her was that one time when he needed something for Francis. ___Francis_. When Belle focused again, she saw both the blonds giving her worried looks. The green eyed man murmured something and pressed a card into her hand, telling her to give it a call, before he walked away with Fra- his husband. Belle Marine looked down at the card.

******Alice Jones**

******Therapist**

******Contact: 113-5189**

And scrawled in Arthur's messy writing: 'she doesn't judge'.

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**How did you like it? Review please!**

**.:|Silver|:.**


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